


Mother of a Saint: A "Mysteries of Harris Burdick" Tale

by cookie_brownie_cat



Category: 12th Century CE RPF, A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver - E. L. Konigsburg, French History RPF, The Mysteries of Harris Burdick - Chris Van Allsburg
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Churches & Cathedrals, France (Country), Kings & Queens, Middle Ages, Religion, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29106591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_brownie_cat/pseuds/cookie_brownie_cat
Summary: In the year 1137, Eleanor of Aquitaine, the young, strong-willed Queen of France, and her pious husband King Louis VII seek the Lord's counsel about the same dream.---Inspired by "The Seven Chairs" from "The Mysteries of Harris Burdick" by Chris Van Allsburg ("The fifth chair ended up in France") & "A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver" by E.L. Konigsberg
Relationships: Eleanor of Aquitaine/Henry Plantagenet (mentioned), Eleanor of Aquitaine/Louis VII of France
Kudos: 1





	Mother of a Saint: A "Mysteries of Harris Burdick" Tale

In the year 1137, France was ruled by a young king named Louis VII. He was timid and sweet-tempered, and lived a devoutly Christian life that was not typical of rulers at that time. He lived each day with so much simplicity and spirituality that some would say he would be better suited for the life of a monk than of a monarch.

Louis was married to a French duchess named Eleanor. She, on the other hand, was feisty and strong-willed. What Louis lacked in lavishness, Eleanor made up for in her desire for luxury and beauty. Much gold was spent on the décor of the palace for the queen's sake – from intricate carpets and curtains from Istanbul to gold trimmings that line the halls. Because of this, Eleanor was not popular with the courtiers, who thought she was a bad influence on the pious King. But Louis was madly in love with his beautiful and worldly bride anyway. He granted her every whim, even though he did not understand the need for her to possess so many gowns, or to have so many troubadours dance and play music all day, or to have another gallery built to house the many artworks she collected from her travels. There was nothing the King would not do for Eleanor.

As for me, I was a simple abbot who was both counselor and friend to the royal couple. As an abbot, I share Louis's devotion to God and Christianity, and it is in my church that the young king would spend hours in fervent prayer. It is with Eleanor, on the other hand, that I share my love for material beauty. She would frequent my church, not to seek the presence of the Holy Father, but to admire the rich Gothic designs and stained-glass windows that I especially took pains in creating. She would often tease me that I would not enter heaven quickly because of my love for worldly beauty, but I knew she was thankful to have found a kindred spirit in me.

One warm afternoon, King Louis barged into my church looking quite panicked and distressed.

"Good afternoon, your Majesty." I said, bowing my head.

"I had a dream," Louis stammered. "A horrible, horrible dream. Abbot, God speaks to humankind through dreams, yes?"

"Calm down, your Majesty." I said, motioning him to sit down and offering a glass of water. "Please, tell me all about it."

Louis took a long gulp of water and sighed. "I always did think she had the liveliest of minds." He said softly. He sat there, his lips moving but not making a sound, his eyes staring blankly at the aisle leading to the magnificent entrance of my church.

"Your Majesty?"

"We were standing there," Louis raised a finger and pointed at an empty space in front of the main door "when she appeared."

"Who?"

"Eleanor," Louis barely whispered. He moved his gaze upwards, along the length of the church's columns. "My Eleanor, in a nun's habit."

I blinked. "A nun's...habit?"

"Eleanor!" Louis looked at me with eyes so wide it frightened me a little. "Eleanor of Aquitaine wearing a nun's habit, seated on a chair and hovering over our heads with a quiet smile that I could not decipher!"

Louis's heavy breathing was the only sound for a few moments, as I sat there blinking in confusion. My head was having a hard time deciding which detail of his story was more baffling – the apparition of Eleanor floating above my and Louis's heads, or that Eleanor would ever consider donning a nun's habit, even in a dream.

Louis rose slowly from his seat and walked towards a window. "What does it mean, Abbot?" his voice sounded distant.

I cleared my throat. "Your Majesty," I began, "I strongly believe that the meaning of dreams is between the dreamer and God alone."

Louis scoffed. I continued, "If you have a dream and feel that perhaps God gave it to you, prayerfully examine the Word of God and contemplate on what he would have you do in response to your dream."

I joined him by the window and peered outside. Eleanor was taking a walk around the castle garden with her ladies in waiting. Louis watched her closely, the tip of his nose flattening on the glass window. "I am the King of France. I am vassal to no one..."

"Except God," I finished for him. "Do you honestly think Eleanor would leave you for that kind of life?"

"I do not know." Louis sighed. "But with Eleanor, you never really know. Like I said, the liveliest of minds..."

***

The sun had barely risen the next day when Queen Eleanor appeared at my church, looking especially chipper. "I would like to have children." She said with a smile.

I was accustomed to Eleanor using her prayer petitions as a morning greeting. "Tell me about this, my Queen." I replied as I gestured towards the confessional.

"Well," she began. "I had a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream. I was in the atrium of a grand castle. It was not this one, nor did the atmosphere feel like France at all. It was much larger than this one and with walls and ceilings taller than even your church!

"So, there I was, and right in front of me was a row of seven chairs. And in each of them," Eleanor took a deep breath. "On each chair sat one of my children!"

I nodded. "Young princes and princesses that you and the King with sire."

"Oh, they were mine all right, but they were definitely not Louis's."

My jaw dropped slightly. Eleanor continued, "My children are incredibly handsome, Abbott! Henry, Matilda, Richard, Geoffrey, Eleanor, Joan and John."

"You already know their names, I see."

"They all looked up at me with piercing eyes." Eleanor said proudly, as if she had not heard me. "There was a look in their eyes that belonged to me and not to Louis."

I let out a small cough. "Your Majesty," I began.

Eleanor reached out and clutched my forearm. "Before you pass your heavenly judgment on me," she said with a kind of urgency, "let me finish. So, my children sat there in all their regal glory. Suddenly, their chairs rose from the ground towards the ceiling of this grand castle. They hovered for a short time over my heads, and not once did they look back down at me." She paused. "I would've been angry at them if they looked down on their mother." She added as an afterthought.

"Then, a large cloud descended from the heavens and covered them all." she continued. "When the mist settled, they had disappeared."

"Where did they go?"

"Scattered around Europe, I presume. To become the kings and queens that I raised them to be."

I was eager to return to the part where Eleanor implied having children with another man. "Your Majestry..."

"You know what was odd, Abbot?" Eleanor ignored me, slightly tightening her grip on my arm. "I am only certain about one of them. The fifth chair, my fifth child Eleanor, somehow ended up back here in France."

"I am sure that as your namesake, young Eleanor would want to be close to your home."

"I am speaking too soon, Abbot, but I feel a strong connection with this child. She is me, only better. She has that high color and spark that I have not seen in any human being thus far. But you know the oddest part? She was wearing," Eleanor's eyes widened "a nun's habit."

I froze. I must not have spoken for quite a while because Eleanor was tugging at my arm. "Abbot?"

"Sorry, Your Majesty. Do go on."

"A nun's habit, Abbot! Do you know what this means?"

Still stunned by the latest development, all I could muster was "Your Majesty I strongly believe that the meaning of dreams is between the dreamer and God alone....."

"I am to be the mother of a saint! A saint, Abbot! Not only I will raise kings and queens, but I will sire saints as well! Isn't that delightful?"

"...prayerfully examine the Word of God and contemplate on what the Lord Almighty would have you do in response to your dream..."

***

I never did get to address the issue of Eleanor's children not being by Louis, although I did not have to. Indeed, Eleanor did have seven children, not by Louis VII of France but by a certain Henry II of England. Their names matched that of her dream, except that the most important detail was amiss. None of Eleanor of Aquitaine's children became saints. Neither were the children of her daughter, Eleanor of England, who had married the King of Castille and thus spent most of her life away from France. However, it was foreshadowing, from the dreams of the royal couple, that somewhere down Eleanor of Aquitaine's lineage would be a holy man who lived by the laws of God more than all his ancestors combined. 

True enough, Eleanor of England had a daughter, Blanche of Castile, whose marriage to King Louis VIII of France was personally arranged by Eleanor of Aquitaine herself. And it was Blanche's son, Louis IX, King of France, who would become one of the country's most revered Saints for generations to come. The fifth chair had, indeed, returned home.

**Author's Note:**

> Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II of England actually had 8 children, but only 7 of them would survive childhood. Their first son, William IX, Count of Poitiers, died at the age of 3.


End file.
